Conspiracies and Sudden Cognomens
by JealousOfTheMoon
Summary: The crux of the matter is--his family's all conspiring against him. Well, he thinks it's beastly of them...and who names a society GEWNE, anyway? Oneshot, LWW/PC, anyverse, Pevensie family fluff.


Definition: _a cognomen is just another word for nickname. _

Disclaimer: _Clive owns. I don't._

Dedicated: _to my rather insolent siblings, who have nicknamed me "Shorty," since I am shorter than most of them— but particularly to the one whose size in terms of height is significantly lesser than mine and who still takes great delight in ascribing the nickname to me. To that one I say most graciously: Hrrmphh.  
_

Conspiracies and Sudden Cognomens–_by JotM_

Sometimes, it bothered him—not with a deep, troublesome sort of bother, but just as much bother as a fly buzzing around your face on the hot day. You're a little annoyed with the fly, and a little amused with your own inability to swipe at it and land a shot accurately, but you're mostly annoyed with other things—the hot of the sun, the sunburn that's inevitably blossoming across your nose, the sweat that's running down your back in a slightly ticklish fashion.

What bothered him was the way his family _loved_ to mess with his name.

There was the whole affair of Dad calling him _Eddie_ since the day he'd been born, even though he'd began protesting it as soon as he could talk (and even before—Susan and Peter swear he set up the most unearthly squalor each time Dad used the nickname). Didn't Dad _know_ it was a _girly_ name—that the only worse thing he could have chosen would be _Mundy?_ (Of course Dad said, "Mundy…hmm…not a bad idea…" and Peter and Susan had heard and chanted "Mundy! Mundy!" at him for days until it grew old.) Why could he choose something more manly, like "Ed" or—I don't know—bizarre as it may seem—even though he'd been given the name at birth—just plain _Edmund_? But no—Eddie he was to Dad, and probably would be for life. He still hadn't resigned himself to that.

Then, when he'd been little, the next name came along. It was at a time when he'd been constantly aware of the _unfairness_ of his entire life. As a result, he'd relentlessly hollered "Muuum!" at every opportunity.

"_Mum!_ Peter is bossing me!"

"_Mum!_ Susan won't stop fussing with my collar!"

"_Mum!_ Lucy won't shut up!"

That is, he'd done it until the day his mother said, "Goodness, Edmund! You call for me so often I sometimes think I should have named you Ed_mum_!" Of course, Peter and Susan were present for that declaration and wasted no time in adopting the new nickname. That got him quiet pretty effectively, but the name still stuck around for a while.

After they'd come to Narnia (and Edmum had been forgotten, he hoped), the nicknaming nightmare had resurfaced.

Once, they'd been at a tournament at the Lone Islands, and Edmund had escaped the day's events without being unhorsed. The girls were ecstatic—mostly at his not being hurt—and Peter was particularly merry—mostly because he had not actually participated in the competition, and therefore had not been bested by his brother.

"Our Royal Brother—King Edmund the Just! But stay—is Just so fitting a title?" Peter announced for all to hear as his brother entered the room for the celebration feast. "King Edmund the Joust, more like! Ha ha!"

Needless to say, Edmund considered that a low blow—especially when everyone in the room roared with laughter. The _Edmum_ incident was still somewhere in the recesses of his brain, but he was willing to give his siblings the benefit of the doubt and believe that they didn't do it _intentionally_; it just sort of came up. So he smiled, though it was more of a grimace than a smile, and started eating, hoping this was the end of the nickname business.

That benefit of the doubt business lasted until the day Edmund had been embroiled in a bit of legal business with some Calormene tradesmen. They were arguing over the sailing rights of a particular coast, all having something to do with whose port was closest to the best place to weigh anchor, and Peter was nodding off in a rather un-high-kingly fashion when Edmund said very loudly,

"Glad to see you've been paying such_ good attention_, O Magnificent One."

Peter tried not to jump in surprise and sat up coolly. "Just resting my eyes a bit," he said smoothly. There was a red-mark on his cheek where a corner of his throne had been pressed for a little too long, and Edmund smirked at this but said nothing.

"I'd better alert you to their argument, then," Edmund went on, clearly in his element. "The crux of the argument is this—"

Just then Susan slammed her bejeweled hand down on the armrest of her throne. The next moment she blushed at herself. "My apologies," she said softly. "It's just—my brother and sister—" she nodded at Peter and Lucy. "—I've thought of another one for Our Royal Brother. Edmund's always pointing out the main idea of someone's argument, right?" Peter and Lucy nodded somewhat excitedly. Edmund felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Well, what say you to King Edmund—the Gist?!" And she collapsed against the back of her throne in a fit of giggles—a far cry from the usual poised and aloof Gentle Sovereign who rebuffed suitors with such practiced grace and ease.

"By the Eastern Sea, Susan, I think you've got it!" Peter roared. "Good one, eh, Ed_mum_?"

It was then that Edmund realized that believing the best about people often leads to a massive let-down. It was also then that he realized that this had probably been some sort of massive plot all along. And—oy! Susan was actually pulling out a scroll and _writing this down! _He supposed this was one of those conspiracy-thingummies, where they write all their worst deeds down and then bury the scroll. That was it! It was a _club scroll_.

The Just King's mouth dropped open, and his brow began to furrow and unfurrow rapidly… He didn't know whether to be angry or pained. He supposed they had some ridiculous name, like Give Edmund Worst Nicknames Ever Society, and referred to themselves as the Gewnesers…no, no, that was too far-fetched. Too conspiracy-whatsitcalled-like…

Nahh. The scroll-writing was probably a coincidence. It was probably just her Suitor Rejection List of the day (which she did have…he was not paranoid about _that!)_. She was just figuring out how many men's hearts she would have to break with her Gentle refusals.

Although it _was_ rather funny how the whole had followed a pattern: first Mum, then Peter, then Susan. It was almost as if they got together and said, "I've done it. You're next!"

The remainder of their stay in Narnia, he'd almost been waiting for Lucy to drop one on him, but it had never come, and then the year after Narnia they'd been too distracted by wondering what would come next and where they would go and why Aslan hadn't sent for them sooner… He thought it had faded into oblivion. Their return to Narnia and subsequent adventures had not sparked the return of the GEWNE Society (not that such a society really existed…just in his very hyper-paranoid brain, which needed to stop assuming the worst), and he began to feel ready to move on with his life.

They all ran towards the train, and he looked at each of his siblings. It struck him then that they all seemed a bit lost—out of place—sad. Well, he couldn't have them getting emotional all over him, could he? There was only one thing left to do.

"D'you think there's any way we can go back?" he clamored, a bit mournfully. The reactions were just what he wanted—sympathy with a touch of shock. He could see they were beginning to get the soppy, siblings-must-support-siblings look, and quickly cut off any of _that_.

"I left my new torch in Narnia!" and then, unable to hold back anymore, he grinned at them. _Got you, _he thought smugly to himself as he watched the mood lighten.

"Oh, really, Ed," Lucy snorted, "sometimes I think Aslan should have named you King Edmund the _Jest_—" she stopped suddenly and clapped both her hands over her mouth. "Peter! Susan! _I've done it!"_ she said, her tone hushed and excited.

Wait—what—? _No!_

"What've you done, Lu?" Peter said sharply.

"I made one up! It was my turn and I did it! I'm more than just an honorary member!" Lucy did a little dance and nearly fell over due to a sudden swaying of the train.

_An honorary member? What…? _

"Steady on, Lu—wait. You mean an honorary member of _that?_" Peter asked suddenly.

"Yes!" Lucy exclaimed. "You know how Edmund's always making up ridiculous jokes and witticisms to distract people from being real about things?" (_"Oy!" _came Ed's unheeded protest). "Well, we should call him _King Edmund the Jest!"_

"Lucy!" Susan's smile was enormous. "That's spectacular! Congratulations, you are now an _official_ member of the Give Edmund Worst Nicknames Ever Society."

_But…but…but that's just a conspiracy theory!_

"Oh. Ugh…" Edmund thought he was going to be sick. Conspiracy theories are all very well and good, but it's still a bit of a shock to a fellow's system when he finds out one is true. "I can't believe this. You—" he turned to Peter. "You call yourself Magnificent, but you're engaging in petty clubs and societies! And Susan—the so-called Gentle—dealing out vicious blows to a brother's reputation! As for you, Lucy the _Valiant_—"

"I think it's rather _valiant_ of her to make fun of a brother who's much bigger than her, don't you, Su?" Peter asked loudly. Edmund went very red and grumpy and sulked in a manner fitting for someone much younger than his thirteen-hundred-plus years.

"King Edmund the _Jest_," Lucy went on, beaming widely. "Hurry up and write it down, Susan!"

"I can't," Susan said somewhat miserably. "I've left the club scroll in Narnia!"

Note: _I am well aware that_ _there's nothing in the book(s) that suggests that the Pevensies' were fond of giving Edmund nicknames. However, I do think that Edmund's first name and title are the easiest to nickname-ize and that he would mind it the most and therefore be tormented with it the most (what sibling would pass up such an open target, I ask you?) If someone finds fault with this logic, I'm open to hearing opinions… but beware. I'll be letting Edmund the Gist deal with all your arguments. -JotM_


End file.
